Prisoners, Demons, and Several Choices More
by ObsessiveGeminis
Summary: Post-Pale Demon. Warning: Pale Demon Spoilers. A personal choice sets off events in Rachel's life out of her hands and makes her question what kind of future she's truly after. Rachel/Al, Trent/Rachel, Rachel/Jenks


_Rated: M (For overall story)_

This fanfiction is a joint effort and a combination of writing talents by two people, and we are choosing to currently be known as Kat and Aja. We have been obsessed with the Hollows series and all of its fascinating characters for awhile now, and having been both amateur writers and friends for such a long time, we decided it was time to put our heads together and see what we could come up with.

_Like any interesting story, we decided to challenge ourselves on it. The story title and the chapter titles are all six word memoirs, and must sum up what is happening in each chapter and overall. This is our first attempt at a Hollows' fanfiction so please be supportive and honest._

_Thanks!_

_Kat and Aja_

_Disclaimer: We do not own the Hollows series or any of its characters._

"**I'm a Danger Magnet: Shit Happens"**

Today was _not_ my day. I glared dismally at the shattered glass in the sink, the remains of the coffee carafe. Crap on toast, I could really use that coffee. My nerves were shot, and Ivy was subtly shifting away from the emotions I was pumping into the kitchen. I couldn't blame her. I'd inch away from myself, if I could. Stupid witch. I sighed and reached down into the shiny basin to scrape together the shards. Or should I say, stupid something-in-between-witch-and-demoness-that'll-spawn-demon-children?

I'll stick with stupid witch. It's easier to explain.

I tossed the bits of glass into the trash and sighed again, closing my eyes against the weak evening sun streaming into my lovely kitchen. It would be dark soon. Pixy noises drifted in from the otherwise quiet sanctuary and I grumbled. Jenks' kids should be outside on such a nice day, not sending little ultrasonic jolts of pain into my eyeballs. Damn pixies.

"Miss Morgan, a man's at the door!" a shrill voice called over the others, making me wince. I heard the pixie's pulley crank into motion and Glen's distinctive scent wafted in. I cracked an eyelid and saw a smile steal over Ivy's lips before she controlled it and made a graceful, if quick, beeline for the door. Ivy was happy. Jenks' kids were happy. Glen, by the sound of his and Ivy's enthusiastic greeting, was happy.

So why wasn't I? I glared at the hanging spelling utensils swinging slightly from the overhead drying rack as they caught a gentle breeze from the open window. I'm guessing the source of my woes was from my inability to be close to anyone without hurting them, getting them killed, having them try to kill me, or just generally making both our lives a big old crap fest.

I mean, hell, my last kiss was from an insanely sexy, power tripping _elf_ trying to put my soul back together. Talk about a messed up love life. I wrapped my arms around myself more firmly as if I had to hold my aura to me as I thought about Trent. The Turn take him, it was a damn fine kiss...

_No, Rachel. Absolutely not. Stop thinking about him, damn it!_Easier said or rather thought than done. Kissing Trent wasn't something a witch could so readily forget. Kind of like kissing Al, except not as... icky. Thinking about the demon made my nerves jangle and I sent a tendril of thought out to the ley line in my little graveyard. I let some ever-after slip into my chi, fortifying it and spindling the excess in my head. The stench of burnt amber clung to the next gulp of air I breathed, but I think it was just a remembered scent.

I paused to see if I could hear the pop of displaced air that would announce Al's arrival into reality. Nope. I puffed a big gusty sigh of relief and stretched slowly, popping my elbows. A look at the clock told me it was barely nine. I really hadn't been awake long enough to be tired, but Ivy and Glen were in the sanctuary that doubled as a living room at the moment, and I didn't feel like sharing the space with them.

So what else is a lazy witch to do but go to bed? I took a long shower first, letting the hot water from the totally not-economic, but so sinfully relaxing showerhead calm my frazzled nerves and hair both. Over the gush of the water I heard a thump that sounded suspiciously like the back of the couch hitting the wall and I starting humming "Build Me up Buttercup" very loudly and very out of tune. It was the first song that popped into my brain to block out the sound of a horny vamp's foreplay with her equally horny human beau.

When I cranked the water off the church was mercifully silent and I padded across the hall to my room, swaddled in a fluffy towel. I slipped in and quietly shut the door. The narrow stained glass window was propped open and Jenks sat on the sill, wings buzzing fitfully. "Tink's titties, Rachel, have you thought of maybe not walking around half naked with a hungry vamp just down the hall? I don't know if you've heard, but there's this new invention called clothing and –" he stopped his ramblings short, peering intently at me. "Jealous of Glen?"

I scoffed and reached in a drawer for a bra. "Cut it out, Jenks. I've got enough crap on my plate without adding that to it, thanks. What are you even doing in here?" I snapped, fishing out a pair of panties, too. Nothing Jenks hadn't seen me do before. The angular planes of the pixy's face pinched for a second and he glanced at me from behind a wild tangle of blond curls. He still hadn't gotten his hair cut.

A small sigh lifted a haze of pixy dust that glimmered fitfully orange. "I get no peace, Rache. Tink's little red panties, those pixy women hound me day and night. They won't come this close to the church, but they're always dropping by the garden. I have a wife, damn it, and Mattie can't be replaced by someone the age of my daughters!"

A pang of guilt dropped into my stomach. When I enlisted Jenks' help with the Mackinaw Weres, he'd taken a curse to make him big, resetting his biological clock. So even though he was nineteen by now, his body was technically almost brand new. In another year he would be the oldest pixy in history. His wife, Matalina, didn't survive a fairy attack set on us by the coven of moral and ethical standards.

See what I mean about making a crap fest out of everyone's lives? "Sorry, Jenks... I know you miss her. We all do, but damn it back to the Turn if we're not happy to have you with us."

A sad smile curved his lips. It faded and I could see a quick idea form behind his startlingly green eyes. Then he _blushed_. "Uh, Jenks?" I muttered, and his wings, too, turned scarlet with increased circulation. "What the hell?"

"I was just thinking, maybe... if I could... umm. Never mind. Later, Rache!" he squeaked, trying to dart out the pixy hole in the window screen.

"Not so fast!" I lunged and slammed the glass shut before he could slip away. "Spill."

Jenks clattered his wings in annoyance and huffed. "I was thinking," he began, not meeting my eyes, "that if I stayed in here, I might actually get a good night's sleep without worrying about who would be dropping by uninvited next." He said it quickly, almost too fast to hear, but a big goofy smile spread over my face.

"You so totally owe me, Jenks. I'll get you a tissue box."

"Thanks, Rache..." He still seemed bummed so I tried another approach.

"You own this place, after all, so really you can do whatever you want."

His eyes brightened, as if he had forgotten the deeds to the church were in his name, not Ivy's. I watched as he shoved the pane of glass open and looked over his shoulder. "I'm just getting a few things; I'll be back in less time than it takes your hair to frizz." His laughter followed him out and I grinned, glancing in the mirror. It was true. Still soaking wet from the shower, my hair was already starting to get billowy and uncontrollable. I snorted and didn't bother trying to flatten it, thinking Jenks might have another couple jokes up his sleeve. If it would cheer him up, then all the better.

I took the time alone to get changed, and I was just pulling my baggy t-shirt on when Jenks zipped back in, sword in hand and wings clattering. He looked exuberant, and he was panting slightly. "Two of 'em waiting by my entrance. Had to sneak through the back." I snickered and set the tissue box down on my nightstand, giving Jenks a place to land. He settled in with a comfortable smile, looking too appealing for his own damn good. _Loving dead wife. Fifty four kids. Fifty four fucking kids!_ I repeated like a mantra as he peeled off his gardening jacket and flicked his long hair out of his eyes. Only Jenks could pull off lounging on my tissue box, but the memory of him in Mackinaw, six feet of delicious muscles, made my stomach do weird little clenches.

I seriously have a problem. I think Jenks realized I was ogling him slightly because his wings turned a delicate pink and clattered against the thin cardboard. "You're not seriously going to bed now, are you?" he asked. "It's like, ten o'clock, Rache. Tink's a Disney whore, you haven't done shit today." I stuck my tongue out at him and climbed awkwardly into bed, conscious of him watching. My comforter was warm in the slight chill of the night and I settled in, turning to face Jenks.

"It's been kind of an off day, Jenks." True, I was normally up until about four o'clock in the morning, but ever since I'd woken up around noon I had been feeling strange, as if the air was supercharged, like right before a storm. The sky was a cheerful blue, though, and the ley line out back hummed soothingly like always, muted slightly by the protective silver I now wore. "I broke the coffee machine," I admitted in a groan. Loud pixy laughter erupted from inside the tissue box as Jenks made a bed out of the soft squares.

"That explains it all. You're useless without coffee," Jenks quipped, popping out of the top of the box. He grinned at me and I reached over and flicked the cardboard, making him laugh loudly. The sound was like a balm to my shot nerves. Now that I'd calmed down a bit, I was a little tired... Still, that feeling of foreboding wouldn't leave me. Trent's braided silver bracelet was an uncomfortable ridge along my wrist and I yanked on it, twisting it into a more comfortable position. As my room darkened, Jenks' glow began to subtly suffuse into the room, like a child's nightlight. It threw a gentle shadow against the wall, and I was nearing sleep when I heard a gentle sob.

It brought me crashing back to wakefulness, but I kept my breathing light, as if I were asleep. From my tissue box came another heartrending cry. I listened harder, feeling intrusive. "Mattie," Jenks whispered, and I could imagine the tears running down his perfect face. "Please don't worry; I'm not letting any other pixy woman take your place. You're my one and only, Matalina. I just don't know what to do. How could you leave me? I'm trying, but I can't seem to figure out how to keep living without you. Oh, Mattie," he repeated brokenly. For a second I thought he was honey drunk, but he was too coherent. Just heartbroken, still.

I felt a small part of my own heart breaking for him in shared grief. Poor Jenks. After a few minutes, his forlorn monologue to his dead wife petered out and his glow gently dimmed. I knew he was asleep, and I started to drift off too, when the bracelet began to annoy me again.

I'd never had trouble with it in the couple months since Trent had saved my soul and given it to me, but now it was itching up a storm against my wrist.

I peered down at it in the gloom of my dark bedroom and started. The intricately braided silver strands were writhing as if with a mind of their own. For a second it made me think of the tortured woman on the handle of Al's ceremonial knife.

Freaky.

I began to slide the bracelet off, surprised when it came loose. I stared at the circle resting innocently in my palm. The itching was gone, but I could feel the full strength of the ley line in the graveyard. The ever-after that coursed in when I stretched out to it was like a pain amulet, erasing any of the little discomforts I'd accumulated in the past couple months. It felt _good._

I set the bracelet on the nightstand next to the sleeping Jenks and stretched luxuriously under the covers. A hazy thought came to me. _Was I still shielded from the demon collective? I didn't say the phrase to take it off... I just... did it. So maybe the spell isn't broken._ I sure hoped I didn't just screw myself and Trent over.

_At least I'm not itchy anymore. Stupid elf magic._And with that, I promptly fell asleep.

I think being severed from the ley line for so long did some funky stuff to my head. I had some really _messed_up dreams. I was walking in the ever-after under the nasty red sun. Except something was off. The broken buildings in the distance kept falling, kept burning, but if I concentrated hard enough on them, they stayed whole for a couple of seconds. Then a skittering rock would distract me. I didn't see any surface demons, though, which was another weird thing. Must be a dream. I had no idea where I was, which wasn't a new feeling when in the ever-after. But I knew where I was going.

Propped between two huge ass boulders was a tiny little sun shelter. Everything was bathed in the glare of the eerie red sunlight, but I caught the distinct outline of a crushed green velvet frock coat draped across a chair.

Sure enough, Al was pacing back and forth under the sickly shadow of the sun shelter, a spelling pot at his feet and a weak fire flickering next to it. I stepped under the awning, completely not in control of my motions. Which only further supported the dream theory. _Plus, I couldn't be in the ever-after. I didn't break Trent's spell! I just... tampered with it._ So, confident that I was only dreaming and figuring it couldn't hurt, I stepped up to Al and punched him. Hard. In the jaw.

Okay, so dream punches still hurt dream knuckles. But hey, I think it was worth it. Al's smile seemed genuine as he rubbed his cheek. "Itchy witch," he sighed. "So it's true. You're dead. I didn't know ghosts could throw fists."

I looked Al up and down, sizing up the situation; he looked pretty worse for the wear. His perfectly tailored shirt and trousers were torn to rags and covered in nasty surface dust. From what I could see he had several cuts and bruises on his body that he hadn't even bothered to patch up with a simple healing spell, and it seemed that he was missing a big chunk of his right ear. Ewww. Plus, he was hiding out on the surface. Huh, you'd think I'd dream him up with a little more class then all that, but maybe my imagination had reached its theoretical limits.

"Go away, Al. I barely manage to get enough peace during the day; I seriously don't need you harassing me in my dreams, too." Was I really so messed up that I couldn't live without mentally dealing with the torture of a bunch of screwed up demons? I had to dream about them now that they weren't in my life? Maybe I should check myself into demon rehab. The thought almost made me giggle.

Al sighed again and shook his head. "You aren't dreaming my dear dumb little witch. You're dead. You had to rush into yet another stupid decision and you got sloppy and let Ku'Sox kill you. That, of course, infuriated the rest of the collective, since they so _fondly_ thought of you as the potential savior of our race. Hence, why I am currently residing in this godforsaken surface land."

Whoa, whoa, whoa. This was definitely too spot-on to be a dream, but I had the bracelet and I hadn't broken the seal on it. If I had, Al would've just felt it and pulled me over without asking, like the ass he is. So why did he still think I was dead? Why did he even care?

"If I'm dead, then why would I even be here talking to you? You're logic isn't adding up Al. Spill, because I know you're up to something," I spat out.

"Oh, itchy witch. Even in death your ability to be so dim-witted manages to boggle my mind," Al drawled. "You're here because I summoned your soul to converse, and now that you've finally shown up we can get down to the serious business. Do you perhaps know where your body was buried, dove?"

Al summoned my soul? Everything was starting to fall into place. I took the bracelet off, but didn't disconnect the spell. Al still thought Ku' Sox killed me and had summoned my soul to talk to me. Without the bracelet, my soul could still travel freely across the lines. So this really wasn't a dream and Al really did look this terrible… _Shit_.

"What happened to you?" I asked, effectively changing the subject. "You're a mess; I would think the least you could've done is cleaned yourself up a bit to talk to me, jeez."

Al winced slightly at the mention of his appearance and with quite a bit of bluster he quickly cleaned himself up and shifted his clothes to his more usual standards. He didn't fix his ear, though and I wondered if it was because he liked the rugged way it looked or if he just couldn't for some reason.

"I'm not my usual buoyant self because I've been on the run ever since you managed to get yourself _killed_. Like I said, everyone is rather upset you're dead and they're blaming it on _me_ for not keeping a better eye on you. They want my head as payment for letting you die, which is why we need to bring you back to life. So, I will ask again, where is your body buried?"

So, once again he needed me in order for people to like him. Well, _boo for him_. It wasn't my problem he couldn't protect his own ass without my status to help him, and I'd be damned if I let him know I wasn't actually dead. If there was a demon war starting over me, I wanted to be as far from it as possible.

"How am I supposed to know where the hell I was buried?" I asked idly, glancing at my nails in a show of nonchalance. They needed a new manicure. Keeping up my appearance of being dead was kind of important if I didn't want to be sucked into a demonic war I'd kind of started. Whoops. "Besides, why do you want my soul back, huh? You could just pay someone to go dig up my grave and transfer my body to the ever-after and find someone else to inhabit it." Can you say,_yuck?_ "How do I know you'd really bring me back? You only need my body, not my soul," I huffed. Even though I wasn't actually dead, that thought really did piss me off.

Al's eye twitched. Oh great, he's about to lie some more. "Because, love, your soul is probably the only one on either side of the lines that has the drive to handle your body. I could very easily find someone else to possess you, but they'd probably wind up botching the job or be driven mad by the sheer ridiculousness it takes to handle being _you_. Besides, don't tell me you actually enjoy being dead? I would've thought you'd be jumping at the chance to get back to your life and all its glories." He paused, adjusting a lace sleeve and delicately sniffing. "Not to mention, we mustn't keep your little male entourage waiting, must we? They've _got _to be missing you by now, itchy witch."

That's it; I was _so_ done with this conversation. "People would go crazy trying to be me? Fan_tas_tic! Your flattery must get you so far," I said sarcastically, deciding to ignore the male entourage quip. "If I really want to come back from being dead, I'll find my own damn way, thanks. I'm not interested in helping you worm your way back into good graces _again_, so you're on your own, buddy. Nice catching up with you and all." I turned to leave and started walking in a random direction.

"I don't need your permission dove; you're dead. All I need to do is stick your soul inside a bottle until further notice and shove you back into your body once I find the blasted thing," Al murmured coldly and confidently. Shit, he had a point. I didn't have to be dead to get shoved inside a bottle, and Al seemed determined enough to do it. I don't think I've ever seen him quite this cracked before. If he snagged my soul, the chances of me finding my way back to my body were practically impossible. I turned around to face him; time to bluff.

"You think I'm helpless as a soul, _Algaliarept_?" The use of his summoning name made him twitch. "If you even _try_ and stuff me in some tiny ass little bottle I'll jump inside your head faster than you can blink, and who do you really think would lose that fight, huh? 'Cause it sure as hell _won't be me!_ All I want is to be rid of you and all your lame demon problems." I stood with my hands on my hips letting what I said sink in and waiting for his response. _Stupid demon, trying to bully me into things._ I've had enough of that crap. I was done with people pulling shit on me.

The fact that I was taking up the offensive seemed to throw Al off, and it kind of threw me off as well. I wondered if we were both trying to remember when I had truly stopped being scared of him. The truth of the situation turned his face ugly.

"Fine, fuck you then!" The modern-ness of that phrase shocked me. Al was more on edge than I'd ever seen him; it was very unlike him to show his frustration like this. "If you really want to be such a conniving _bitch_ about it, I _will_ just find someone to shove into your body. A fresh personality would be a nice change of pace from all the complications you make, and if you don't want anything to do with me then fine by me, witch. And to _think_ that I was delusional enough to believe I actually _missed_ these ridiculous arguments! I- " he abruptly cut himself off and our eyes both met in widening shock. Did he really just say what I think he said? _Al missed me? Or did he plan on saying that?_ As always, I never knew with Al.

Before either of us had a chance to react, a noise from behind me made us both turn and look. I quickly dove to the side as a massive black ball of ley line energy suddenly hurtled past me. What the _hell_ is going on? I looked up and around wildly, spitting sand and hair out of my mouth. A shout from my right caught my attention. Al was struggling with the black ball of energy; it looked like it was closing in on him in a suffocating hold. With a Herculean grunt of concentration he absorbed the whole bubble, quickly turned around and launched the entire thing back at its creator, who I couldn't see from behind my protective boulder.

I shot my head up for a quick peek, but the demon was in a black hooded robe and I couldn't make out its face. "Rachel, the Turn take it, get _down_!" Al shouted. I dropped again before the next ball of ever-after could hit me in the face. It whizzed over the top of the rock. I could practically feel it singeing my hair. Damn it, I was stuck in the ever-after as a frickin' soul with someone throwing around massive amounts of magic like it was child's play.

There was another shout and the distinctive, undignified "Ooof!" of someone getting thrown to the ground. Without even thinking about it I stuck my head back up again to see what was going on. Al had given up on using magic to best his opponent and had just tackled him head on like a professional football player. They were wrestling on the ground, each one trying to dominate the other. _Has Al always been that muscular?_ I thought dimly, eyes wide in shock and fear. I shook my head and squinted, spitting more red strands out of my way.

Suddenly the attacker rose up and swung back his hand. I realized it was glowing with a handful of nasty black energy. "Look out!" I screamed, fear making my voice thin and reedy. As Al looked up at my warning, the attacker swung his hand down and smacked Al across his face, sending him flying thirty feet to the left. He fell in a crumpled, unmoving heap. The attacker swooped down on him before I even had time to register what the hell had happened.

"_Al-l-l-l-l!_" I screamed with all my might, but I was already being sucked back through the ley lines to the other side. I woke up screaming in a cold sweat. What the hell had just happened? Dread filled me as I stared at the innocent silver bracelet, the cause of my current problem. I had to go save Al!


End file.
